


Don't Be Afraid

by captainahmedica



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Human Lydia, Human Scott McCall, Lacrosse Player Derek, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Werewolf Reveal, Young Derek Hale, Young Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Young Peter Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:38:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2064933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainahmedica/pseuds/captainahmedica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jackson traps Stiles in a locker after school, he stumbles across Derek struggling to control his shift. With their budding relationship already strained due to Jackson’s bullying, the discovery threatens to end them before they even start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is entirely based on the amazing [AU GIF set created by dereks-henley](http://dereks-henley.tumblr.com/post/91887780645/in-my-defense-its-kinda-hard-to-tell-the-guy-you), which is where the summary above is quoted from!

If only Stiles hadn't felt the unavoidable urge to bring up Jackson's adoption status in response to his especially incessant round of bullying during their lunch period earlier, maybe he wouldn't be stuck in this predicament.

Literally stuck. In the boy's locker room.

In a locker.

Jackson had waited for everyone else to clear out after practice (including Scott who was waiting outside for Stiles to finish using the bathroom) when he grabbed Stiles straight from the sink he was washing his hands at and shoved him into a locker without so much as a peep; his facial expression as solid and cold as steel. Stiles knew something to this effect was coming, but being locked in a locker was new territory. Stiles couldn't even fake being apologetic—his attempts at what could have been a simple "sorry" were laced with so much sarcasm that he's lucky Jackson was so generous as to not give him any bruises.

His phone was conveniently in his own locker and thus inaccessible, which made calling for help that much more difficult. There was no one around to hear his yelling and body-slamming the locker door wasn't yielding much of an effect. He gave up only a few minutes into his imprisonment and decided to wait for Scott to come back and find him—Stiles was his ride home.

And just like that, the familiar squeak of the locker room door echoed off the walls and Stiles perked up, having almost dozed off.

"Scott? That you?"

There's no answer, just the sound of hurried footsteps that sounded like they were headed towards the showers in the corner.

"Uhh... Scott?" Stiles tried again to no avail. He changed his tactic the third time around and called out, "Um, whoever's in here, can you uh... help me out here? ...Hello?"

Stiles grew agitated at the lack of response. He knew they could hear him but they were seemingly ignoring him. And, for a second, he swore he could hear a weird grunting, but he'd hoped it's just the water pipes as whoever it was turned one of the showers on. 'Who would even hook up in the boy's locker room anyway?' Stiles thought. (Stiles had considered it a few times, but that's not the point.)

"If that's you Jackson, listen dude, I'm sorry. I mean it this time, okay? Can you just punch me or something instead? I have homework to do."

The only response he heard was the sound of water hitting the hard tile floor.

"Okay, seriously? Who's out there? Let me out!" He strained against the tight metal walls to get a peek at who might be in there with him through the small slits towards the top of the locker, but the way they were angled he could only see absolutely nothing.

He began banging on the locker door, harder this time, and to both his surprise and delight, he felt a dent forming where the side of his closed fist was meeting the metal. Encouraged by this, he continued pounding close to where the lock mechanism was in an attempt to break it. No one would blame or even suspect that Stiles would have broken a locker, so he wasn't worried.

Progress was slow but the fact that there even _was_ progress was astonishing. And the fact that someone was leisurely showering a few feet away as he was causing all this racket pushed him to use even more force—

BAM!

He came bursting out of the locker with a dramatic stumble, typical of Stiles, when one of his many punches finally did the trick and sent the locker door nearly flying off of its hinges. And just as he was about to celebrate his prison break, he looked up to see who was ignoring him and he froze.

It was Derek…but something was different.

There was no hiding the impossible blue glow of his eyes as he looked up and met Stiles’ gaze. The fangs weren't discreet either. He was soaked and trembling under the presumably cold water and had a look on his face like a hurt puppy with his brows drawn together and his mouth saying no words but pleading for forgiveness and understanding in the way it was frowning slightly. But there wasn't much of either emotion on Stiles’ end as he backed away slowly, unsure of what he was seeing or how to react. Was this even real? He would definitely have woken up from a nightmare by now.

“Stiles…” Derek barely choked out. "Stiles!" he repeated, clearer and louder this time.

Stiles couldn’t seem to utter anything but “I’m… I’m gonna… go…” as he found himself against the locker room door with his hand blindly fumbling around for the handle. When he found it, he swung it open and bolted out of there towards the school’s main doors where he found Scott waiting, face buried in his phone.

“Dude, did you fall in the toilet?” Scott looked up when he saw his best friend finally approaching him.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Stiles grabbed Scott’s jacket by the shoulder and yanked him towards the parking lot.

"Oh...okay," Scott complied, understandably weird-ed out, though this kind of sporadic behavior coming from Stiles wasn't new to him.

The whole car ride home in the Jeep was unusually quiet, however. Usually, Stiles would explain what's got him acting strangely, but he kept his mouth shut. It’s usually Stiles that strikes up the conversations and he had nothing to say. Scott wasn’t sure what to do or how to act and then before he knew it they had pulled up to his house.

“Dude, is everything alright?” He tried one last time.

“Yeah, it’s fine," he paused a moment, "I think." Stiles kept it at that.

Scott sighed because he knew something was bothering Stiles but he decided not to pester him about it for the time being. “Whatever you say. I know something's bothering you but it's okay if you don't wanna talk about it. Just let me know when you are, dude.”

“Yeah. Deal.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Alright, spill it.”

Derek poked at his cafeteria-quality mac and cheese with his fork. “Spill what?”

Peter motioned to the uneaten pasta. “You love that garbage and you haven’t eaten one bit of it. It’s practically a sign of the times. What’s up with you?”

Derek juggled with the idea of whether or not he should tell Peter about what happened last night. His uncle was generally pretty hot-tempered and he wasn’t sure how he’d react, but he knew that he wouldn’t quit until he got an answer.

“Um… coach benched me in practice last night. It was, you know, full moon or whatever, and I was having trouble controlling the shift on the field. So… yeah.”

Almost immediately, Peter called him out on his “Bullshit.”

“What?” Derek pouted, exaggeratedly wrinkling his brow in confusion.

“You heard me. That’s total bullshit. You can’t lie to me, Derek.”

Derek dropped his head and brought his hand up to the back of his neck, rubbing behind his ear. He let out a sigh before he gave in. “Okay, look, that wasn’t a lie. I _was_ actually trying to control the shift and I _did_ get benched. But…”

“Yes, but…”

“Well, whatever I was doing wasn’t working, and I didn’t want anyone to see anything, so I ran to the locker room to get under a cold shower. I didn’t think anyone was in there…”

“Who was it?” Peter tried to cut to the chase.

“Well, I’m not sure why he was there—I think he got himself trapped in a locker or something—but well… I’m… I’m pretty sure he saw me. Like… shifted, kinda…”

“Derek. That doesn’t answer the question. Who?”

“S-Stiles…”

“Stiles? That’s it?” 

“What do you mean ‘That’s it’? You’re not mad?”

“Mad? Your little crush saw you shift, big deal. No one’s gonna believe him,” he paused for a beat, “but that’s not what you’re worried about.”

Derek paused before nodding slowly. “He hasn’t said anything about it yet. I think he’s avoiding me.”

“Well what’d he do when he saw you?”

“He kinda just… ran away.”

Peter chuckled and nodded, “Of course he did.”

“I swear that’s what he did!” Derek defended.

“No, I know, I believe you. I wasn’t being sarcastic. That’s just so typical of him.”

“Oh,” Derek cracked a smile, “yeah.” He picked up a lone noodle and brought it to his mouth.

Peter stared at him eating one noodle at a time for a while before saying, “You really like this kid, huh?” His nephew couldn’t help but blush.

“I don’t… I don’t know. He’s cool, I guess.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “You guess?” he teased with a smirk.

“Shut up!”

 

* * *

 

“Stiles.”

“Stiles, stop it.”

“STILES!”

“Wh-what?!” Stiles leaped in his seat and looked over to find Lydia’s intense stare.

“Stop tapping your pencil. It’s obnoxious,” Lydia ordered.

Stiles set his writing utensil down and apologized.

Barely a few moments had passed before Lydia was yelling at him again. He’d replaced tapping his pencil with tapping his foot, which was even louder and more obnoxious, and Lydia wasn’t having it.

After another apology, almost unconsciously, he resumed tapping his pencil on the library desk.

“Okay, seriously? I didn’t think it was possible, but you are _actually_ being more annoying than normal. What’s up with you?”

“What? Nothing,” Stiles replied in monotone.

“You’re really going to try that on me?” Lydia set her notebook down and turned to Stiles. “It’s Derek isn’t it?”

Stiles turned, brows furrowed, and asked, “What? How did you—”

“I’m not blind. You two have been practically avoiding each other. What happened?”

Stiles let out a sigh. “You know how people say ‘it’s kind of hard to explain’ when it’s really not and they just don’t want to tell you? Yeah, this is not one of those times. It’s actually really hard to explain. I don’t even know if I _can_ explain. I don’t even know what happened.”

“Hm…are you two even dating yet?”

“ _Dating?!_ Who’s even—what? No!”

“Then what are you so worked up about? Did he reject you?” She paused in thought for a moment before gasping, “Oh my God, did you reject him?”

“No, Lydia…” Stiles groaned as he put his head down on his desk.

“Listen, all I’m saying is that you guys aren’t even, you know, _official_ yet, so I’m struggling to see what the issue is here.”

“I told you, if I could explain, I would. But, honestly, it’s like… straight out of a movie.”

Lydia brushed her hair behind her ear and leaned in closer to Stiles.

“Well, look. If you ever want to talk about anything… _you know_ …I’m here. I know about these things,” she reassured.

“Yeah… thanks,” Stiles nodded while picking his head up from the desk. “I mean it, thanks. I just…I don’t know. Need some time to think.”

Barely a minute passed before Stiles piped up.

“Lydia?”

She pulled out the headphones she had just put in a few seconds ago. “Hm?”

“Do you believe in like…vampires and stuff? Or werewolves?”

She blinked. “Stiles, hon,” she whispered and placed her hand on his forearm, “I think you need to go home and get some sleep.”

He nodded in agreement.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles’ last period class was Spanish, a class he was on the verge of failing, but also a class he shared with Derek. The latter seemed to outweigh the former when he decided to skip it and head home for the day per Lydia’s advice. Thankfully, Scott had his bike today so he wouldn’t need a ride home.

It took him nearly an hour to arrive at home. He took the scenic route and spent the time thinking. Thoughts scrambled through his head like a stampede and he just couldn’t make sense of what he saw last night.

Obviously it wasn’t a dream—unless he was still dreaming. He pinched himself to be sure.

“ _Ow._ ” He decided he was definitely awake.

What was wrong with Derek? Why were his eyes blue? And… _fangs_? Maybe it was an optical illusion, like a reflection off the water, or something. But why was there water in the first place? Why was he showering with all of his gear on?

None of it made any sense.

And to make matters worse, Stiles made himself look like an idiot when, instead of offering help, he ran home. He couldn’t stop hearing Derek straining his voice to call out “Stiles!” Why didn’t he answer? Why did he leave Derek when he could have been in trouble?

Stressed and exhausted from interrogating himself, he collapsed face first onto his bed before he could even take off his shoes. He wouldn’t have minded melting into the mattress at that point. He could’ve probably slept until morning if he was left undisturbed, but just as his worries were fading away into a nice slumber, a knock came at his door.

“I don’t want dinner right now, dad, I’m really tired,” he muffled into his pillow, answering the question he anticipated from his father.

“Stiles, can we please talk?”

Stiles tore his face from the pillow and turned to see Derek standing there leaning against Stiles’ bedroom door frame. He blinked and was frozen for a moment before swinging his body around to an upright seated position. “Uh… hi? W—what’re you doing here?”

“I literally just said… I want to talk,” he responded in a stern tone, though his facial expression read nervous.

“Right. Uh, yeah… we can talk. I guess,” Stiles dropped his eye contact to the bed under him.

Derek eased his way into the room and took a seat on the edge of the bed, as if not wanting to overstep any boundaries. He rubbed his temple gently. “I… I don’t even know where to begin. What you saw…” he paused for a somewhat uncomfortable amount of time, “I… can’t…”

“Can’t explain it? Yeah, me neither.”

“Stiles, listen… I…” Derek felt like his brain just stopped working. “I don’t even know what to tell you…”

“How about you start with the part where apparently your eyes can glow blue and you can sprout fangs? Like some kinda… some kind of…”

“Werewolf?”

Stiles’ lifted his eyes to find Derek’s staring back at him, glowing bright blue. He felt his jaw fall agape, but not before his eyes caught a glance of the claws that had grown in place of his fingernails. 

Stiles’ body shivered and there was a deafening silence that befell them.

Derek’s face pleaded for forgiveness as he nervously swallowed—the last time he came out as a werewolf to someone, well, let’s just say there’s a reason his eyes weren’t yellow as they once were.

Stiles felt numb. All rationality had left him. Under any other circumstances, he would pick apart the evidence before him and find a logical explanation. But this threw him for more than a loop. He was terrified, fascinated, curious, and above all else, confused, all at the same time.

“What…” was all he could manage to get out as he slowly from from the bed and backed away from the monster in his room.

“I’m… I’m a werewolf. I was, um, born like this,” Derek tried to keep the situation calm as he could smell the fear on Stiles. “Hey, listen, you don’t have to be scared. It’s not like the movies or whatever… I’m not gonna like, slaughter you or whatever…”

Stiles cocked his head to the side and squinted his eyes, as if getting a closer look at the creature before him. “Wer—werewolf?” Stiles whispered harshly. “How is…  how is that even…” he paused as though he was going to gather his thoughts and speak an actual sentence, but all that came out was “How?”

Derek followed Stiles’ lead and stood, but kept his distance for good measure. “Look, I know this is a lot to handle… I mean it’s kind of why I haven’t told you, or, well, anyone really… I’m sorry,” he tried to explain.

“I’m…” Stiles paused and took a few deep breaths before he began pacing, “Oh my _God_ , okay, I’m… I’m still trying to wrap my head around this being a… a thing. I mean… _what_? _Werewolf_?” He stopped and turned to face Derek, who’s eyes started to fade back to their normal brown just as his claws and fangs retracted themselves.

Derek didn’t know what else to say. He couldn’t do much to keep the act up anymore—if anything, he was the one that was terrified, and he was supposed to be the monster. He couldn’t help but chew on the inside of his lip.

Stiles stood across him, quiet and un-moving, and Derek decided it would be a good idea to break the stillness with the only thing on his mind:

“Do you hate me?”

“…Hate you?” as Stiles began, his posture visibly relaxed and he took a step toward Derek. “Hate you? Are you kidding? No, I don’t… I don’t hate you. I mean… I don’t know how I feel. I guess I’m a little upset?” He brought a finger to his mouth and chewed on a nail before saying, “I mean… I just wish you would have told me.”

“In my defense, it’s kinda hard to tell the guy you like that you’re a creature of the night,” Derek spoke before realizing what he’d said. By then, it was too late.

Stiles wasn’t sure how much more he could handle. It took a while for actual sound to come out of his slack-jawed mouth. “…Like? You like… _like_ me?” Stiles emphasized.

Derek’s eyes fell to the floor. “I think so.” It took a moment to reset his gaze on the boy in front of him, who had seemingly come closer when he wasn’t looking. “Y—yeah. I do. Do… do you?” He gulped.

Stiles gave a light chuckle. “Always have.”


End file.
